Baby Steps
by a-heavyheart-tocarry
Summary: Everything was in steps. That's what Greasy Sae said, at least. And Dr. Aurelius. A smile. A sentence. Steps. Those are what Katniss focused on. Mockingjay epilogue re-write. Katniss/Peeta. Oneshot.


**Warning: Spoilers for the Mockingjay epilogue below.**

Everything was in steps. That's what Greasy Sae said, at least. And Dr. Aurelius. A smile. A sentence. Steps. Those are what Katniss focused on. Not the big picture. Not the past. Not what everything would become in one, five, ten years. All she focused on were the days that slipped by like water through fingers, the small moments that she held on to.

Peeta used the same method.

It was hard, at first. Distrust and lies and mistakes had buried the old Katniss and Peeta, speared their stomachs and blown them up and ripped them to pieces, so only shards of the girl on fire and the boy with the bread remained. They hung on to the pieces that were real. Katniss found herself repeating everything about Peeta that _hadn't _changed. The way his hands were calloused and warm from years near fires. How he smelled like bread and would sometimes have icing one his hands or face when he came home from the bakery. Little things like that.

Greasy Sae and Haymitch were partly to blame— or to thank?— for them growing back together. Sae would invite Peeta and Katniss over for dinner without either of them realizing. Haymitch would make some racket in his house and both teenagers would rush over to see what had happened. Soon the dinners moved to the bakery. More people came. Sae's halfway-there granddaughter. Thom and his little cousins. Merida, the woman who ran the dress shop and was friends with Sae. Katniss found it hard to interact with them all at first. It had been so long since she'd been able to talk to people regularly. But soon it became a routine. Katniss spent more time at the bakery than the others. Peeta came over to bring her cheese buns. They were still floating around each other, but things were progressing. She knew he wasn't exactly sure what to make of her. Mutt, ally, friend, lover… She could see the list of names he was sorting through in his eyes; he was still undecided about which one to pick.

At least the list was getting shorter.

Annie and Johanna visited the summer after the end of the war, a little boy with dark curls on Annie's hip and a bottle of liquor for Haymitch in Johanna's grasp. Interacting with them both made Katniss realize how alike all of them really were. Herself and Annie and Johanna and Peeta and Haymitch. All of them broken. They only had each other, really. No one else could understand, really, what they were going through. About three days into their visit, Katniss found Annie sitting on the back porch of Peeta's house, where they were having dinner, watching little Finn crawl around the garden on toddler limbs, just crying. It took a great effort, but Katniss sat with her until she finally wiped her eyes and gave a watery smile. "Thank you," said Annie, grasping Katniss's hand in both of her own, and Katniss gave a small smile of her own back, choking back a lump in her throat, though she wasn't exactly sure why.

Peeta was especially thoughtful during Johanna and Annie's visit. Katniss found herself panicking somewhat, afraid that the little steps their relationship had taken were fading. But he didn't seem hostile. Just… pensive. One night, she showed up at the bakery, a few cooked squirrels in hand to give to him for dinner, because he'd missed the scheduled one with the others. He didn't really respond when she set them down, and she made to leave, but his hand reached out to grab hers. "Wait," he murmured, and she could see the pleading in his eyes, knew that he was struggling with the memories in his head. She gripped his hand back, and let him ask what was real and what wasn't until he calmed down.

The occasional gripping of fingers turned into hand-holding. Katniss tried to not read too much into it. These steps were still only friendship. But, she couldn't deny that it was nice, not having to make up an excuse to reach over and twine her fingers with his when she wanted to.

Hand-holding turned into hugs. Which led to small kisses goodnight. The first time that happened, Peeta had tensed up and pulled away. Slowly, slowly they became better. Peeta pulled her closer. Their steps were gradual. Sometimes Katniss didn't realize they were progressing until it had happened.

One night, Katniss woke screaming from a nightmare. Hunched over, clutching her middle and trying to catch her breath, she felt warm hands wrap around her shoulders and under her legs. For a moment she struggled, still half-caught in a dream, before recognizing the familiar scent of bread. Slowly, she relaxed, burying her face in his shirt. He carried her upstairs and set her on the bed, climbing in with her without a word.

He was there when she woke up in the morning. And for every night after that.

Days faded into weeks that bloomed into months. In winter, long days were spent drinking hot chocolate in the bakery, people coming and going because Peeta's bread was in high demand when the weather was so cold.

That was the night things changed again; they took their next move forward. She was woken from her nightmare by a kiss, a kiss that never really ended until they were curled in a sweaty tangled of limbs and bedsheets. He kissed the top of her head and whispered his question into his hair. She knew the answer before she said it. Maybe she'd always known. Maybe she would never know when it had become true. But it was. And that was enough for both of them.

Of course there were times when they took a few paces backwards. His names for her would run through again— mutt and ally and friend and lover— and she would have to wait it out until he knew who he was and who she was and who they were again. There were days she would question it herself, where she would do nothing but lie in bed and wonder, if she could just stay still long enough, if she could wake from this dream. But then Peeta would pull her up with dinner or she would bring him rolls and painting supplies when they were his bad days and they would sleep and things would be okay. For a while.

Years later, it was only when she watched her daughter take her first shaky waddles on chubby baby feet that she really thought back on all that had happened. The Games, the Quell, the war, her life after. Death and life and pain and happiness. It was all a cycle. Valleys and mountains. Maybe things were looking up now.

And as the little girl stumbled forward into her arms, Katniss smiled.


End file.
